Richmond dispatch. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1884-1903, 1887-04-03

he ran on and feared be might have
offended him.
"well, said the poet, "I'd rather
You wouldn't talk of her in that way,
| al least not Just yet. But I have no
right to object, and never shall have"
Bill looked at him inquiringly. 81
made TOOL of myself, Bill, that's all.
Asked her TO marry me-
ibid you?"
"Yes. She wouldn't. I was mis-
taken about the girl altogether, Bill.
She's not, / believe, bit poetical or
sentimental, or anything like that, at
all. In fact, she told me as much. SO
that story is over as far as am con-
cerned."
"Ouite over, is it?" said Bill.
"Quite," said the poet.
Bill said no more then but as they
parted, outside his door, his handshake
was longer and warmer than usual, and
he muttered indistinctly, in the shame
faced way in which man offers SYM
patty. "Tm sorry, old man."
II was on night early in January
| that this little drama was enacted.
Some three weeks afterward there en-
sued period of heavy frost, during
which skating was universal, and Miss
Norbury and Mr.. William Rafter, both
experts on the ice, came to see good
deal of each other. There was already
friendship between them, in virtue OF
old acquaintance by sight, and it grew
closer in those days when they flew over
| the ice together, looking not unlike
great placid ship and fussy little
steam-tug. She found a strange enjoy
ment in teasing this big, good-humored
Young man, who received her most i'm
pertinent sallies with a calm smile.
They were walking home one eve
ming from the Round Pond, Bill carry
ing her skates and seeming more
thoughtful than usual. Miss Norbury
was getting her small feet wet by walk
| ing on the grass, which was covered
| with snow, sometimes stoppingt to shake
a snow-la laden bough, and then running
| to escape the miniature avalanche that
came down.
"Whats the matter with you ?" she
shlu, COMING DcSiuc LIN, nuu hSihiub
her saucy nose up in the direction of
his face. 81 believe you're thinking
81 was" said Bill. 81 was think
ing how jolly it must be to be clever
like you, for instance"
"And I was thinking" said Miss
Norbury,, show jolly it must be to be
stupid, like"
Like me, for instance? Yes, 1 am
beastly stupid" She signified her as
sent by silence. 81 don't know that /
can do anything well-except write and
do figures"
"Write" said she with pretended
horror. "Do you write, too? Is it
novels, or poetry, or what ?"
Novels Not l ] mean writing
pen-and-ink what-do-you-call- 'em-cal-
ligraphy."
"0h. You mean manual skill. Twas
afraid you might have been poet. l
thought you were, do you know, the
first night / met your"
"Did you9" said Bill. He stopped,
| and put his back against a tree to realize
it. ''Wait bit, please. These skates
| are come undone, and / want TO fasten
them up together tight" She stopped
and came over to superintend the pro-
cess. CT sometimes wish / was
bit of poet, do you know"
"You dol Why?"
"Well, it's this way" said Bill slow
ly. He had dropped down on one knee,
and was fastening up the skates, not
looking up. Suppose 1 wanted to
say something-to somebody-and
didn't exactly know how to begin"
eyes; can suppose it, she said
demurely.
"Suppose l was in love for in
stance '-he was very intent on the
buckling of that one strap" and sup
pose / wanted to tell the girl | loved
what thought about her, and that /
didn't quite see how to start lit was a
very troublesome strap for such small
thing" and suppose that-that there
I was"
81 should think, said Miss Norbury,
in a very small voice, "that if you
were-you would know what to do"
He looked up. She was standing close
to him, her face turned away. One small
hand hung down close to him.
81 think" he said, 81 should begin
by taking her hand. And then" He
took the little fur-gloved paw tenderly,
and pulled her gently round until he
could look into her eyes. 1t was not so
dusk in the January twilight but that
he could interpret what they said.
There was not much need of words.
That night the poet, sitting before
his fire and musing upon things In gen
eral, was reused from meditation by
knock at his door. Bill Rafter entered
and shook hands in silence.
"Wel, Bill, any news ?" said the
poet when be was seated.
"Well," said Bill slowly, and with
even more than usual hesitancy,
"there is"
"Spin it out, then, while you fill
your pipe"
But Bill was silent. There was a
certain awkward shame-facedness about
him that the poet could not help no.
ticing. $50 on. Tell u.s." he said.
"It's about" said Bill, with an eff
fort" about Miss .Norbury."
Nothing happened to her, is
there 2"
"No, no. At least-yes. Not any
harm you know. AT least hope not.
It's about Miss Norbury, You s3e, and
| me"
"And you?"
"Yes. And me. We're-in fact
we're"-said Bill, with a deprecatory
sort of smile" we're engaged"
GOOD God! !" said the poet.
"You !"
"Yes, me. Ihope, Johnny, you don't
think it's mean of me, or anything that
way. But, You know, [ was in love
with her too, and when You told me she
had refused you-why-"
"Of course. You were right. II
was nothing to me. 1 hope you'll BE-
happy, old fellow" said the poet. He
was rather confused, and spoke in an
absent-minded way.
"Well, that's ALL" said Bill. 81
think I'll clear out now. / just came in
to tell you" They shook hands, and
the poet was again left alone.
He drew his chair up to the fire, and
thought over ii all. 1t was a sharp les
son, and for some time he smartei
sorely under the chastisement, thinking